


It's not just a bad day anymore if it keeps happening everyday

by fighterandall



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-03-23
Packaged: 2018-03-05 05:28:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3107825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fighterandall/pseuds/fighterandall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A very angsty fic written on my mobile phone in the only time I have for writing lately - on the bus on my way to and from work. It may have some punctuatuon and spelling errors, although I tried to remove them all before posting it. </p><p>I can't promise regular updates but I promise they will be good when I post them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A simple day in hell

**Author's Note:**

> This is unedited so be warned.

You wake up. You survive. You go to bed. You wake up screaming in the middle of the night because the nightmares you're having are real. You stay in bed covered in cold sweat scared to close your eyes again until just before dawn the exhaustion breaks you. Just a few hours after that your internal clock drags your still bruised body and tortured mind out of bed. So you get up. You survive. You go back to bed.

Natasha was barely sleeping. She was eating little and going out even less. The days were a constant struggle of not breaking down from the paranoia that seemed to have put its roots deep down in her life. The nights were quite literally a nightmare. 

Steve was gone searching for Bucky. Sam was trying to find a new way of living after Steve and her dragged him into the mess HYDRA and S.H.I.E.L.D made of their lives. Tony had a whole other universe of problems to deal with. Bruce was back in India since New York and he had no intention of getting back which was probably better since her nightmares so often included him too. In them his other half always got her on the hellicarrier. 

Natasha was alone. 

The morning she realized she was tired for the first time was just a couple of days after that press conference she held in front of every possible media and the Council. It took her a lot of effort to lose the media and paparazzi off her tracks, especially with all her covers blown and connections exposed but she did it. Just like every other time in her life when she was pushed in a corner she managed to get up and disappear. Or at least the latter because if any of her acquaintances saw her they would.call on her bullshit about being okay on the second. And honestly, though she'd never confess it, she was scared as hell because of this. Never in her life has she felt so weak, so fragile, so exposed. 

All of her life was out in the open in the hands of both friends and enemies. All the secrets she fought so hard to keep hidden so she can try to redeem herself by doing good. Not a good situation for a spy. Not at all. 

The only cover and place she had off the books she though a lot about before actually using. 

It wasn't particularly hers. It was... she felt kind of uncomfortable even thinking about it as shared but that was what it was. Shared. Theirs. 

Hers and the person she hasn't seen a lot of since a couple of weeks after New York. 

She spent a lot of time just looking at the key she had from the small top floor apartment they invested in after a certain mission that put them both on edge about so many things. Made them question who they are, if they are capable of being just normal people, if they might be capable of getting attached to someone else. They agreed it would be a safe spot, a neutral ground they would use whenever they needed to, no matter the reason. It was bought completely off the books and with two fake identities they invented particularly for the deal so it pretty much was the only place on earth she had that everybody didn't know about. 

Contrary to the amount of reasoning and thinking she put into this case, she tried to keep her mind off Clint Barton as much as she could but she just couldn't help herself sometimes. All she knew was Fury had sent him on a solo mission before S.H.I.E.L.D fell. It was actually his second mission after a leave of absence he took after New York and his first job alone after it. For all she knew he might still be under if his cover wasn't blown. In which case he would probably be dead. She tried not to think about it because if it had happened it was all because of her actions. She remembered the seconds before she pressed that final buttons - remembered thinking about the damage she could be doing to so many agents working undercover for the safety of their governments and the world and him in particular. She didn't think for a second about herself. Natasha tried to push her paranoia back and at first it was successfull. Then, just a day after the information dump the news were flooded with reports about compromised and killed S.H.I.E.L.D agents all around the world. Those made her sick - like really sick - she threw up after the first ones, that didn't bother with hiding even the smallest gruesome details about the executions. The blood of all them was on her hands. 

She tried to treasure herself Clint was probably okay, just laying low, trying to figure out how to get back from wherever he was. But the days and nights passed, sometimes blending into one, being all the same. 

She got up, she survived, she went to bed. 

With the days and nights going by, she started watching tv more and more rarely, drowning herself in the novels and marksmen magazines she and Clint had brought to the apartment the previous times they were here together or separately.  
Being all alone there and probably in the world in these first few weeks, Natasha didn't even bother to try hiding the relief his little personal imprints on the apartment brought her. 

On the fourteenth day after the press conference she ran out of tea. Staring at the betraying empty boxes, she refused to leave the apartment. The hot aromatic drink calmed her down when the panic and nightmares brought her to her knees, but the anxiety of going out in the open, of leaving the apartment and becoming a moving target was a hundred times worse, although she knew she had to face it sooner or later. Never in her life had she hit such a low point and that meant a lot. Somehow she couldn't bring herself to care... 

On the twentieth day she decided to turn the silent tv on again, figuring enough time has passed for the media to have calmed down and probably moved on to the next miracle with a three day fame. 

She was wrong. 

This time the reports were showing people who have lost relatives and lovers, businesses and future after the battle of New York. And because of a reason she could not quite comprehend at first, they were making some utterly absurd accusations, blaming S.H.I.E.L.D for everything now and then. She couldn't help but think about how many of those words were true and how much - faked, payed for the purposes of someone interested lurking in the shadows behind the filming cameras. She was no fool. She had watched regimes fall and thrive with the help and manipulation of the public opinions but that did not make it any easier to live with. 

She turned it off again. She hadn't exactly sure when she became angry at... everything about the situation, actually. Her calm and sharp mind figured it out for her - she'd been furious and hurt since Fury didn't trust her just a couple of weeks ago. She'd just been numbing it in the aftermath of the events. 

It was probably time to move on. She'd never stayed for so long at one place anyway - she was taking a risk, but she wasn't sure she was ready to leave this last sanctuary and face a world in which 90% of the people hated her and or wanted her dead and the other 10% were feeling totally indifferent but were still judging her actions. But no matter what happened life had to go on, the show too. 

The laptop she used was untraceable - another thing she and Clint agreed on when they resolved on having a safehouse of their own, and she was smart enough to know what to look for when she searched for clues left from S.H.I.E.L.D agents in the Web without leaving traces leading back to her. She though she was prepared but it still hit her pretty hard to see that most of them were two and more weeks old. Those people were probably deep under either metaphorically or literally in two very different senses.  
She couldn't help but flinch when she saw there was nothing from Clint anywhere. Natasha tried to reassure herself that that was not necessary a bad thing although she perfectly well knew that it kinda was. 

Closing the laptop shut she found herself thinking about going out again. It was as if there were two people battling in her - one scared as hell and another who was trying to make her push the fear away claiming it actually wasn't that much different than the way she'd spent her life until the Winter Soldier fiasco. 

Her mobile rang. It took her a minute to comprehend it since only Steve and Maria had that number and they agreed it would only be used in case of an emergency. Taking it in her hand she saw the number was unknown. Paranoia almost made her throw it at the wall, grab as much of her belongings as she can an run. 

Instead she pressed the green button. 

"Hello" - Natasha tried to keep her voice steady while her eyes searched the room, the buildings in proximity to hers and the street more out of a trained habit than anything else. 

She could hear the person at the other side of the line sigh audibly in relief. She suppressed the urge to throw the phone away again and gripped it tightly in case her body tried acting on his own lead by instincts dictated by paranoia. 

She though she heard her name and then the line disconnected. Natasha felt her knees weaken for a second before switching to action mode. 

She quicky found a usb cable for the computer and the program she could use to track the call. This couldn't be a prank so it was a cry for help. The whisper sounded male so either Steve had found James Barnes, fought him and lost or... or was Fury. Natasha had no doubt Maria would have given him the number in case he needed it on his crusade against HYDRA. 

The program needed seconds to trace the call. Her blood went cold. The address was just a few blocks away. 

She hesitated. Not even Steve and Maria knew about this place. Was it possible for somebody to had followed her to the nearby buildings and lost her and now was using her phone to track her. No, it wasn't possible. Nobody except her companions on the winter soldier mission knew it. 

Biting her lip, she let go of the breath she was keeping and got to action. She was already dressed so just put on a hooded jacket and got her S.H.I.E.L.D issued gun she'd kept out of its safe place. 

She took the stairs and the moment her feet hit the cold soil outside and the wind sent chills through her whole body she realized she'd missed this. Missed the adrenaline running through her veins and the calls for a job. Missed the feeling of her muscles tensing while training. And it made her feel Clint's absence even more. She tried really hard not to dwell on it. 

Her comfortable jogging shoes took her to the place the signal was coming from quickly - it was six blocks away from the apartment. She couldn't help but think how it was just close enough for her to get there quickly just as it was in a considerable distance away. 

The building was one of those abandoned structures that raised every red flag in the book. It seemed like it was planned to be a business building. It was unfinished though - if she gambles, she'd bet her money on the contractor bankrupting when the world economic crisis began a few years back. Once the dream of some successful businessman now the structure added to the grey picture of the neighborhood and gave the sketchy characters in it a rather classy place to deal their suspicious business. She wasn't afraid of them but faced a rather big change - it was a ten story building with a lot of broken windows and as suspiciously unstable looking building supporting structures.  
Getting near and moving through the open gate - she took a second to acknowledge the chain was cut neatly and not ripped apart, Natasha tightened her grip on the gun in her pocket. It was almost twilight and the darkness was going to fall soon. She didn't have a lot of time. 

She stepped through the building's entrance knowing full well that this could be a trap but she didn't have time to look around the premises with the evening on her feet. Emptiness and silence welcomed her. 

Natasha slowly made her way through the first few rooms without finding any signs of life. Apparently the place it was dangerous even for the shady life forms living around the block. 

Halfway through her explorations of the first floor she looked through one of the broken windows - the evening dusk was settling outside. 

Natasha hesitated. The time was pressuring her and there wasn't enough time to check even half Of the building before the night fell. The spy considered going home and coming again tomorrow. No, if it really was an sos she would be sentencing a person to death and there was enough blood on her hands. So there was one option left. 

Taking out her phone, Natasha looked around one last time. Only silence answered her. She pressed the code into the device, activating its special mode. 

She really wasn't happy about using S.H.I.E.L.D technology since HYDRA was kind of using it to track down S.H.I.E.L.D agents but there wasn't much of a choice she had here.  
She slowly moved the device across the room. The screen, showing her the thermal image of her surroundings remained a dark, almost black shade of green. 

Even if there was an elevator she wouldn't use it even if her life depended on it so she took the stairs. The device showed nothing on the second floor too, but she did quick check of all the rooms just to be sure. 

Getting higher, she calmed down a little. Nobody had tried to kill her yet, which was a good thing. Unless of course they were planning to take her down with a sniper somewhere on the upper floors. She shuddered under her jacket. It has absolutely nothing to do with the freezing wind. 

The higher she got, the colder it got. She'd had worse, but not in the near past. 

The first body she stumbled on was on the fifth floor. A man dressed all in black with a ski mask and a vest with bullets buried deep in it. The shot that finished him got him in the neck. He blead out in a matter of just a minute or so. 

His body was already in rigor mortise because of the freezing winds. Natasha hesitated before taking his mask off. Her senses were on high alert because the guy was dead. So if he was the one who called her his killer might still be around waiting to finish whoever he'd called. 

She felt as if the world fell off her shoulders when she took the mask of and didn't recognize the man. With partly numb fingers she searched his pockets and found an ID - James Todd. An ugly red skull was staring at her from the badge.

HYDRA. 

With a swift motion she threw it away, backed off until her back was against a wall and drew out her gun. She could hear her heart beating in her ears and could see her breath in front of her face. If HYDRA was involved this was a whole new level of dangerous. And since the guy was dead then the call was definitely a one for help or at least for back up. She found the place the shots were fired from quickly. Bullets have dug their way halfway through the wall the person who called her had used for a cover. 

Cautiously she continued the sweep the place, searching more thoroughly now both with thermal imaging and her eyes and ears. 

There were three more bodies on the next floor. And a lot of bullets and empty bullet casings but the thermal imaging showed no one breathing. 

Climbing up the stairs she couldn't help but feel admiration towards the person - because all the casings from the good side seemed to have come from only one gun, who was probably ambushed here but fought for his life more than heroically. 

Halfway through the stairs up the next floor something caught her eye. A few somethings actually. She almost missed them but a beam of light from the night outside reflected on them. Crouching down just to be sure, Natasha studied the drops of dark liquid. 

He or she was hit. She stood up and picked up her pace as the blood became more and more. She found two more HYDRA agents down, all hit with absolute precision. Her mind calculated the number of bullets he'd used - just one refill. By that time she was sure that whoever needed her help was capable of fighting their fights. And judging by the amount of blood all around the place, was bleeding out. And she had lost enough time in doubt and search. 

Ignoring all the warnings of her brain and training, she dialed the unknown number.


	2. I found you in a hopeless place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this is chapter two. It's shorter, but there is some action. To those of you asking about the "Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. characters - expect them from the next chapter on.

The ring was so loud it startled her. The echo in the building magnified the sound and it took her a second to coordinate herself towards the sourse or the sound - a room just a few feet away with entrance marked by a busted from its hinges door.  
The place was a mess. Broken furniture, scattered pieces of concrete and broken dirty syringes covered the dusty dirty floor. All the windows were broken and in the light comming from them she saw one more body, laying among all the garbage with his eyes closed and a ringing cell phone next to his limp fingers, gloved in one of those gloves with half fingers Clint used to love carrying because they allowed him to be warm and operate with his bow freely at the same time. 

Natasha leaped forward. Her brain made the calculations for her. A man, probaby in his late thirties or early fourties. White fingers meant Caucasian. Being here pointed her towards the side of the good guys, especially when he wasn't wearing HYDRA combat uniform. Instead, he was dressed in black jeans and dark blue winter jacket. Grey scarf. A black mask that covered his face he probably wore to decept the enemy. At least that's what she would do in the given situation and she'd seen one of the dead guys without his head gear downstairs.

Her almost numb fingers searched for a pulse under the fabric of the scarf. She was relieved to find it was there - a little weak, probably because of the cold and bloodloss, but steady. 

Getting a better look, she frowned. It seemed some of the blood was from the attackers, because there weren't entry wounds. Further examination concluded he was injured in the upper arm. Natasha quickly checked the wound. It had hit pretty near to an artery but it hadn't punctured it. And it was a through and through.

Looking at the guy, she shook her head in disbelief. This man was lucky. Really lucky, because if he hadn't worn a vest he would definitely be dead. No matter of his great shooting skills. His arm was still bleeding, though - probably the reason he'd lost consciousness too, so she had to get him out of there and get him to a hospital. She had to try to wake him up, because there was no way she could manage dragging him out and even to a cab outside.

Her fingers slipped under the lower part of the ski mask, lifting his head carefully so she can take it off. If he knew her name there was quite a good possibillity she knew his.  
A gasp escaped her chipped from the cold and nerves lately lips as soon as the clothing piece was off.

His face wore the marks of the age of the man in front of her that she'd guessed correctly - early forties it was - wrinkles around his eyes and she knew very well. A scar from a battle in Budapest. Messy sand blonde hair. Full lips, of course, bruised from a recent fight. 

Natasha felt her fingers tremble and a part of her brain tried to calm them down while another was trying to suppress the amounts joy and relief at the view in front of her. 

She trailed her fingers along his face stealing a few seconds she could show how vulnerable she is when it comes to him with noone to call her for it.

"Hey" - she heard her own voice being a little shaky and frowned. Somewhere below something shattered and she turned around to look towards the entrance of the room that had a direct view to the stairs. Nothing moved, but her instincts ushered her to hurry up. This room had no other exit other than through the window which was not a pleasant way to go even if you had a hook and she didn't.

"Clint, come on, wake up" - she took her hand off his head and tried to pull him up in a sitting position. Her hand glistened in the dim light in black.  
The hand that held his head just a minute ago.

"Боже мой*" - she whispered. If he had an injury on his head no wonder he was unconscious and not responding. Maybe they tried to fight him in a hand to hand combat. She remembered one of the last HYDRA agents outside with signs of it. 

Natasha looked around searching for his bow because first, she could use it, and second, he'd never forgive her if she left his baby in this hopeless place. It was nowhere to be seen which was really unfortunate because judging by the sounds coming from the lower floors, they were going to have company pretty soon and she'd left her knives at home. She really wouldn't mind having a long range weapon and all she had was a 9 mm gun with only one spare refill.

Turning her attention back to Clint, she tried waking him up again with few gentle taps on the face.

"Come on, Clint, wake up." 

No reaction. Calculating the risks and opportunities she had no choice but to fight whtever was coming their way. She couldn't wake him and there was no question about moving him - not knowing how bad was his injury she might as well kill him herself.

Natasha seeked cover behind a column just two feet away. Unfamiliar steps were coming her way quickly. It was not that they were loud - the person was trying to step as lightly as possible and to move quietly, but it was impossible - she knew it from her journey up herself - all the dirt, broken glass pieces and small bits of building material excluded a stealthy movement as an option. She looked at Clint. She had to get Maria or Tony or someone here really quickly when... if this all ended with both of them still alive.  
The gun had a familiar feeling in her hand although she hadn't been anywhere near a shooting range in the past few weeks. The spy shuddered at the thought that last time she pointed it was at a person who was supposedly at their side and last time she shot was at a man with steel arm who didn't remember who he was. A feeling she knew far too well.

She couldn't help but wonder if that would be the case and if she could manage getting out of a confrontation with him alive again.

Natasha pulled the hard cold metal up, on the level of her heart, ready to aim it at whoever was coming her way. 

Let them come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Боже мой - bulgarian and russian "Oh my God". Yeah, I know, languages are great.


	3. Ambushed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The action begins.  
> And hello agent Melinda May!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a small chapter but I don't have a lot more already written text, so until I get to write some more, I will torture you with small bits, sorry.

Her heart was beating steady - another thing she realized she should be thankful for her training because even after all the stress lately she managed to keep her head clear, pulse - in order, and body - in control. She closed her eyes for a second, focusing on the sound of causcious steps and a beeping so low it almost seemed like a game of the imagination. Judging by the time between the steps and the scunching sounds from primerally little in size particles and trash it was a woman - no man would try stepping only on little sound making objects. Men usually just kicked however lightly stuff from their way, especially if they were in a place that didn't indicate another's presence. The beeping from the device, and she'd bet it was a tracking device, announced the person was near - just a few feet away. A second later they walked through the doorframe and froze in their tracks in the shadow that fell over the doorway. 

With a swift elegant motion Natasha raised her gun, pointing it at the figure's temple.

"Don't move."

Judging by the height and the movement that indicated hair, she'd guess it was a woman. Her body was petite, dressed all in black. Somehow Natasha doubted she'd go down easy if it came to that. Especially if she was here.

"I will not hesitate to shoot. Identify yourself" - her voice came out low and stern.  
She saw the woman tilt her head to the side and instinctively put the safety of the gun down before hearing a familiar voice with an almost unbelieving tone:

"Nat?"

Relief washed though her body as she recognised Melinda May's unmistakable voice but Natasha kept her gun up and pointing. Couldn't risk it.

"Fury?"

Only a few chosen knew Fury wasn't dead. HYDRA didn't. And though there was no way Melinda May was a traitor Natasha prefered to be safe, breathing and, if necessary, apologizing, than sorry and dead.

"Alive. Put that gun away, Barton's vitals are dropping."

Natasha let out a breath she didn't realise she was holding and put the gun back in it's holster with the safety now on again. Both she and Melinda sprung into action once their weapons were put away and secured. 

Agent May was holding a device she'd never seen before - and she thought she'd seen and used all the fancy toys, but hey, who knew, Stark might have made something useful lately she didn't know about. To be completely honest, Natasha hadn't spoken with him after politely declining to be his personal assistant slash undercover bodyguard. And she had no desires of pissing Pepper off on the matter too.

"How did you..."

"Tracker. Barton contacted me a week ago when he finally managed to sneak back into the States and started looking for you. You didn't exactly leave an address when you dropped off the grid almost a month ago."

Natasha felt the delicate hint of acusal in Melinda's voice. Now wasn't the time for this conversation though so she let it slip. While talking, the pretty asian agent hadn't lifted her eyes from the device, checking Clint's condition. She pressed her lips in a thin line and pulled a syringe with a strange bluish liquid from her pocket and uncapped it, checking for air before finding a vein on Clint's arm and injecting him with it. Searching through her memory Natasha couldn't recall a substance like this either. 

Then again, what the hell did she expect, she went off the grid for weeks. Ignoring her annoyance, Natasha glanced at May's face, trying to read as much as she could in the dim moonlight.

Great. So she was in a position where she didn't know a single thing - not what's happening, not what that medicine was, not why and how Melinda May was here and not even why Clint decided to look for her. It unnerved her the least to say.

"Why does he never listen" - May sighted - "Help me put him a little bit up."  
Natasha nodded and simply coordinated with May.

"What did he do?" - she asked quetly, listening for sounds from down below.

"Almost got himself killed, as usual" - shook her head May. Didn't Natasha know that but it was usually her line.

"I guess HYDRA will be here soon, looking for their own?: - she murmured.  
"Good guess" - she seemed to listen for a second to something she could not see or hear. Damn it, she hated not being in the loop. May checked the archer's pulse - "Clint is stable. For now."  
Natasha just nodded, relieved. 

"Okay, Fitz, thanks" - May looked in Natasha's diretion briefly before touching the almost invisible earpiece Natasha hadn't seen the in dark covered by her friend's hair.

Something in May's movements and voice made her flinch on the inside. This was all happening too fast and as much as it was like putting on a well known favorite sweater, it was just as terrifying after... well, after last time. If Melinda was here and talking to people who were giving her information and could probably get them help... it meant there was help that there were people out there who had survived the information dump and were fighting HYDRA back while she'd hidden in the small cozy apartment just a few minutes away. Melinda's voice got her out of the thoughts she'd allowed herself to fall into unwillingly. 

"Skye, get us out. Three people, I'm bringing a friend home."

Natasha frowned. How was whoever Skye was going to do that? Teleport them? Although Natasha wasn't sure she'd refuse it if offered right now but as far as she knew even Stark didn't have that kind of technology. Yet.

A crash sounded from downstairs, followed by heavy boots hitting the floor.

"Shit. I hoped for a few more minutes" - murmured Melinda, pressing her lips into a thin line, grabbing Clint so she can put his arm around her shoulders. Natasha was already up with her gun in her hand ready to take his other arm around her own shoulders. If only there was a way they could get out of here - "Let's get him to the window."

Natasha looked out through the frames of the glasless windows and the dark night looked back at her. Her breath came out shaky in white clouds from her lips. The wind hit her in the face She could hear steps and shouts on their floor now and her hand tightened around the handle of the gun on itself.


	4. A bold escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bold escape I actually wrote before the Bobbi rescued Jemma from that building with a plane. Anyway. 
> 
> This chapter contains a bold escape, a lot of tension and the introduction of some other well known characters from "Marvel's Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.".
> 
> I should probably say this is the moment where my fanfic stops following the events in the series and takes its own course.

"We wouldn't need that" - she heard May's voice just as a few shadows skimmed over the entrance. Turning around and aiming at the place where the door should have been, Natasha missed a comparatively small plane materializing in the air in front of the buildings. Nevertheless, she felt the strong air currents from the runnig stabilising engines.

A bold HYDRA agent tried his luck, possibly feeling their time was almost up. Natasha was sa quick and precise as ever - in a breath it was the last bad descision the guy made in his life. 

The two women, holding a man between them surprisingly steady, were standing in the open as the plane was maneuvering slowly enough for all of then to get killed and as much as she was impressed the piloting skills of whoever was flying the damn thing, Natasha made the descision in a matter of the second her eyes and mind took to combine all the variables and calculate the possibilities.

"May, take him, go!" - she spoke up, so Melinda could catch her words, but the enemy wouldn't. Natasha heard the plane's cargo door opening behind her just as she saw one of the agents taking a quick glimpse at their position. The door was opening too slow.

"Trip!" - May shouted to someone Natasha wasn't familiar with. Heavy bootsteps behind her indicated a man. Being behind her back meant he was safe. At least for now.  
She focused on keeping them alive as more HYDRA agents tried to move through the doorway. She cursed as a bullet hissed a santimeter or so away from her ear.

Natasha heard May's voice giving orders in a hurry but didn't take her eyes from the door. Both she and the enemy agents, if they were even a little informed, knew all they needed was a distraction for her to get shot in the back. Not killed, but still. Gunshot wounds were not a very pleasent experience to have.  
She fired again but the silence and the empty click of the gun told her what she already knew was comming. Out of bullets and without another barrel - she'd already used the spare one, Natasha was a standing target. And just for everything to be even better, she had no way of retrieving to the plane backwards while trying to dodge bullets.

"Agent Romanoff, I'm covering you, get on the plane."

It had been a while since anybody had called her that. It sounded familiar and almost right. And whoever Trip was, he was doing a good job because he didn't hesitate to put his words into action and keep the enemy agents away under a rain of bullets that would allow her to get to safety.

Without further hesitation she turned and jumped - the cargo entrance was open and the plane's hard floor welcomed her fall as an old friend kicking the air out of her lungs but not before she took a glimpse of the five stores of open air below them.

She was barely up when the cargo door closed and the aircraft went up. Cathing her bteath, she could hear the enemy bullets hitting the plane's coat.

A hand appeared in her eyesight and she lifted her eyes up composing herself. The man was big - probably a head and a half higher than her and very athletic. He was dressed in baggy marine trousers, a rather tight oil green t-shirt and heavy boots on that explaied the way she heard his steps earlier. He had kind and earnest eyes.

She wouldn't usually do it, but tonight she'd already made so much exceptions it didn't even matter. Natasha took the offered hand and allowed Trip to help her up. 

"Welcome on board, agent Romanoff."

"Thanks" - she nodded, trying to dull the pain in the shoulder she'd landed on with the palm of her hand while following the man into the main space of the craft.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another quite short one, I know. 
> 
> Real life gets in the way so in order for more frequent updates, I have to post smaller chapters, I'm sorry, I truly am.
> 
> I want to thank all of you who have taken the time and efford so far to read this fanfic and support me with a comment or kudos - thank you! You can't imagine how happy you make me and how much you inspire me!


	5. Uncomfortable silences and truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New chapter!
> 
> I'm not really sure if it's a good one, you will be the judges of that.
> 
> Thank you, all of you are so lovely and nice, you keep me going and wanting to write. Thank you!

The flight that followed didn't last long - just a little over half an hour. Melinda had taken on piloting, while a girl aged no more than 21 - Skye, as Natasha guessed, was her co-pilot. 

Trip apparently was the muscles of the mission. He also seemed to know a thing or two about handling concussions and gunshot wounds. 

Being the one not in charge - not piloting and coordinating the job, was to say the least, strange for her. And while she had a lot of questions, Natasha didn't ask them, but rather observed. 

It took her seconds to conclude May and Skye had a special connection - one only a supervising officer and a S.H.I.E.L.D trainee can have. The two women had a coordination of moves, orders and actions they had apparently perfected over time. They also trusted Trip, because they didn't question any of his moves and propositions, nor his judgment.

But most of the time, they were all silent. Natasha was getting herself busy with cleaning her gun to past the time while Trip was assessing Clint's condition and May and Skye were flying the plane. She could feel the man and the young girl looking at her but tried not to dwell on it although she'd rather guess it was because they knew what she'd done a month ago than because of her fame in S.H.I.E.L.D. before it's fall.

"Agent Barton's going to be okay" - she heard Trip's words, directed mostly at her - "He'll need a few days rest and to stay away from that bow of his, but with proper treatment at the base he'll be up in no time."

Natasha just nodded with gratitude - a nod Trip returned. From experience she knew he'd had a lot worse - some of the worst suffered in her presence on their legendary missions with no extraction plan. He was probably going to whine about not being able to practice shooting with the bow, but he was going to have to live with it.

After this was settled there were a full fifteen minutes left they spent in silence which was convenient, because it gave her time to think about the latest еvents. There were some things that bothered her and one of them was laying a few feet from her still unconscious.

She'd almost panicked when she saw it's him and he's was not waking up. Why?

Simple enough question with an even simpler answer. Because he was the only stable thing in her life for years now and it was the only thing left for her after S.H.I.E.L.D had fallen because she couldn't see how the bunch of barely survived people with every law enforcement agency and division on their feet with no economical and technological resources could stand against the force that was now HYDRA - a great WWII machine with brand new parts with deep roots in every possible place that stood interest for them. 

A part of that thought turned out quite ironic when they landed down shortly in a base she could swear she'd read about in the S.H.I.E.L.D history books.

It was a little after ten pm and the halls were deserted. All she saw were red brick walls and a lot of closed doors.

Natasha helped Trip with carrying Clint to a room equipped as a hospital while May and Skye stayed with the plane at the hangar for a while, securing it.

"What is this place?" - she finally asked after they'd taken care of her partner. She was calmer now he'd woken in the plane on the way there just a few minutes before they landed and they'd concluded he had a minor case of a concussion, a through and through gunshot wound and a hellish week that he'd spent no more than 10 hours of sleep of total in.

A small smile had pulled her lips when he'd shrugged and said in a typical Barton manner that it was nothing he couldn't handle and he'd just need to sleep it off. They'd agreed someone was going to wake him up every couple of hours just in case though. 

And that's how it came to Natasha and Trip sitting in a comfortable for her and utterly awkward for him silence waiting for someone named Simmons.

Natasha was used to people being intimidated by her although she didn't think she looked that impressive right now. She sure as hell didn't feel like it but this was an unfamiliar territory with mostly unknown people. By observing she'd learned enough to know they were all S.H.I.E.L.D operative officers who'd survived the information dump. It was little to say she was relieved that the damage she'd done had not destroyed S.H.I.E.L.D entirely.

"So." -she lifted her eyes when Trip broke the silence. He was looking at her friendly - a way she was not used from people. It was usually either fear or hatred.

Natasha shot him an expecting look pushing her eyebrows up. The woman thought she saw a small smile before he hid it.

"You are the famous Natasha Romanoff."

She barely contained the sarcastic smile that threatened to pull her lips and just shrugged, her voice composed and calm when she answered. 

"I guess I am."

Trip turned her back to her. Impressive since she was in the room. Most people would rather turn into statues than do it - even Tony didn't have that courage.

"I'm curious, is this story about the winter guy real?"

Natasha froze. It took her a few seconds longer than it had to for her to answer. Seconds that would speak more than a thousand words if this place was not as safe as she'd hoped. 

"Which part? - she finaly asked back - The HYDRA one or the creepy super soldier with a bionic arm one?"

She didn't get her answer though, because the door opened with a softer click than she'd imagined it would for a door over eighty years old and Melinda walked in.

"Nat, somebody wants to meet you" - her voice was soft and calm. Her posture - at ease. She clearly felt safe and at home. Despite that Natasha couldn't shake the feeling of unease over all the unknown factors around her. 

She pushed herself from the counter she was leaning on and fillowed her friend out.

"What is this place?" - Natasha asked while they were walking down the hall.

"An old S.H.I.E.L.D base. We modified it and now it is our home and headquarters." - Melinda explained.

"We?" - Natasha tried to keep her voice neutral.

She heard Melinda's smile in her next words.

"Me and the dozen other people who know where they stand and want to make the world a nice place for living again."

A pause followed in which Natasha tried not to feel guilty and they almost reached the end of the corridor where a flight of stairds lead to an office. That's when May stopped her.

"How's Barton doing?"

"Your guy says he'll be fine. You got me out before someone named Simmons arrived to give him a proper examination."

May just nodded. Silence fell for a couple of seconds. Then she pursed her lips and let out a sigh. There was no easy way to do this so the agent thought she might as well be straightforward. Or almost straightforward anyway.

"Nat, I can't repare you for what you're about to see but I have to ask you if you want to be here firts." she paused to emphasyse on her words - "No matter what Barton says you might or might not want, I don't want to drag you in this since you didn't want to be reached and found."

Natasha shrugged. Her eyes didn't give away any of the feelings she was keeping on the inside. Feelings like uncertainty, annoyance and a maybe a little bit of fear, because no matter how fearless people thought the famous Natasha Romanoff was... she really wasn't. She was brave, she took calculated risks and sometimes ignored orders and behaved reckless, she was composed and with an IQ higher than most people's but there weren't many who knew that. But she was not fearless - the deception was in the key she held - the key that was actually acting like she was fearless and whatever else a role involved. Right now, all the evidence her brain was giving her the whole evening, was telling her something wasn't right and that she has every right to be frightened and not trusting. And Melinda's behaviour was doing nothing to prove her instincts wrong.

"I'm here and you know I'm not the kind of person who people drag in stuff they I don't want to be drawn into" - Natasha said and paused for just enough to take a quick breath in - Besides, I'm the reason every person on the planet knows all our aliases and secret places.

May wanted to object to that, to the bitterness she heard in her friend's voice, but Natasha was already climbing the stairs and she was soon enough going to face whatever there was to be faced.


	6. Back from the dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's all give a warm welcome to the alive Phil Coulson. What happens when Natasha finds out he's not only alive, but he's the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I haven't updated in a while but things have been crazy lately with exams and work and everything else you might think about. Thank you for all the support, the patience and for sticking with the story!

It occurred to her that behind that door on top of these stairs is the key to her future. Or at least, her present, because she's never been the long term planning one.  
The knock on the glass door sounded loud in the night. Natasha could feel May's presence close behind her when a muffled from the door voice invited them in.  
She frowned, her hand hesitating just above the doorknob. The tone of that voice was familiar, although it sounded more stern and tired than last time she'd heard it.  
But that last time was on a hellicarrier somewhere above New York a couple of years ago. Back there and then its owner was stabbed to death by a certain Asgardian god of deception and mischief. 

She felt May tense behind her. For a second the old paranoia in her showed its ugly head, ushering her to punch first and ask questions later. Melinda's calm reassuring voice stopped her.

"It's okay, it's not a trap, I promise."

Natasha pushed the handle down and entered the office.

It was a big room with a lot of cabinets, probalby filled with S.H.I.E.L.D documents, a table with spread papers across it and a big desk. Surprisingly, the windows were big. She'd guess they allowed a lot of light in during the day that made the room look cozier or at least - warmer. Now they were dark and covered with a thin layer of condensed water drops due to the significant difference between the temperatures inside and out of the building. 

But all those details Natasha registered briefly for it was the man behind the desk who threw her off balance and send her brain looking for explanation which she knew it wouldn't find because he should be dead.

He had to be. They - she, Bruce, Tony, Steve, Clint, Maria, they all attended his funeral. He was dead.

But dead people don't speak and certainty don't smile. Which is exactly what Phil Coulson did when he lifted his eyes from the documents he was reading and saw her.

"Natasha!" - he was probably surprised just a little bit less than her "May, you didn't tell me you've found her."

"Though you can use a nice surprise."

Both of the women didn't miss Coulson's smirk before it disappeared. That indicated that things probably weren't going on very well lately.  
"How?" Natasha asked as soon as his eyes fixed on her again. He seemed alive enough for her so it was useless to ask the obvious. She went for the next best and what's more, important, thing.

"That is not a pretty tale. It's a rather funny story at a few points. It includes an island and might take some time." he'd put on that annoying face of his when he knew a lot and let out just as much as he thought people should know.

"I have the time" she shrugged, trying to keep a straight face.

Coulson smiled when he turned towards May.

Natasha saw May shrug. The most little of smiles appeared on her lips.

"I don't. I know you. I know you don't trust me right now because I was on а leave... well, okay, I was presumably dead.

Natasha almost rolled her eyes. Come on. Did he really think it was going to go this way. If she was religious she'd say God was her witness that she couldn't keep up with all the lies S.H.I.E.L.D. had brought on to her lately.

"You literally died in front of our eyes, Coulson. When this happens, whoever it is, stays that way. So I'm sorry but you'll have to bear with me." Natasha knew she was pushing a little bit too much but she didn't care. Coulson being alive only meant Fury had lied for one more thing.

Phil smiled as if he knew something more than her. And he probably did, considering the situation. Despite that, he stayed silent for one more moment, inspecting her.

"Just so you know, it's Director Coulson now." he said at last.

She felt just the way she felt earlier, when she was trapped with May in that building. Lost. Out of the loop. And a little more betrayed. Because if he was in the director's shoes now, then he knew where she was, where all of them were, and still didn't say a thing. And apparently, Fury didn't think it important either. Steve was going to be devastated. Natasha gathered all her will not to break down and asked the most simple and easy question.

''Why am I here?''

Coulson didn't smile. As if he knew the bitter thought, going through her head. Natasha thought she saw relief in his eyes but she couldn't be absolutely sure because a moment later it disappeared. The shock was almost gone and she took a better look at him. The guy had changed and a lot. It was not only the wrinkles around his eyes that told her that. His clear eyes seemed older, wiser. But they were just as kind as before which was what kept her still standing in this room. She waited patiently for his answer.

'You're here because S.H.I.E.L.D needs you, agent Romanoff."

"S.H.I.E.L.D doesn't exist any more." she shook her head with her arms twitching to cross in front of her chest. Her training and instincts kept them down and ready for a fight though. Trying not to think about the unclear and confusing responses of her mind and body towards the people she thought she knew just months ago, she continued "I kind of had a little bit of a VIP pass for the front rows of its fall. In case you haven't got a TV and Internet heritage from Peggy Carter, then you should know I even took a rather big part in the play."

Coulson seemed rather amused by her response. Not the kind of reaction she was exactly expecting.

"Oh but you see, that's the beauty of it. We get to be a secret organisation again. Well, we have to hide and we don't have a lot of friends right now. God knows we can use somebody in the White House or in the Congress. Otherwise it's all the same."

Yeah. And it seemed the lies were pretty much the same too.

"All the world knows my face." Natasha blurred out dead serious after a rather long pause she took to try and analize what the hell was he thinking. He couldn't do this. He didn't have the right to give her hope everything could be okay when it would not. She pushed a certain sarcastic remark down and continued. "I've exposed all my aliases, all my hidden aces, all my secrets are out in the open. I am not going to be of any use to you. I can't be."

She ignored the pain in her chest when the poisonous words left her lips and managed to keep her face neutral, although it was as hard as long range bullet hitting her. She also ignored the guilt and blood on her hands on all the other agents dead because of her that were threatening to crash her.

Judging by Coulson's serious face and sympathetic eyes Natasha knew she hadn't fooled him. She sure as hell knew she couldn't fool herself too. Well, at least she could pretend she did and take a step towards fixing this.

"Oh, we are going to think of a job where your skill set will be useful. You just have to say "Yes"." he blinked slowly at her, as if tired, awaiting for her answer. She could say from his body language this was important for him though.

Alas, that didn't make the way he'd put the words. His choice of them had made her feel sick. She didn't want to say "Yes" when he made it sound like that.

She didn't want to be anyone's puppet anymore.

Her silence and posture probably spoke more than she wanted. Coulson sighted.

"I understand if you can't give me an answer right away. I am far from surprised, although I was counting you would be more willing." 

He started pacing around. Out of habit more than feeling him as a potential threat, her eyes followed her and her body slightly shifted its weight according to his position in the room.

"Let's make a deal. Stay until Barton gets better, and then you can both decide whether you want to stay or go." he stopped and turned to look in her eyes again. "You're going to get the chance to work with us in the time and participate in missions if you feel like it. Only on your free will. How does that sound to you?"

Was it a trap? Were there any hidden meanings behind his words? Natasha grasped at the concept, her mind going over all the potential underwater rocks in them in a matter of seconds but couldn't find a reason to refuse the offer. It was a pretty good damn offer - better than a lot of others she'd had in her life. So she nodded but took her time when he offered his hand.

She wasn't sure she trusted him. As a matter of fact, the red head was pretty sure she didn't. He sure as hell wasn't Hydra, but that didn't make him trustworthy. Still, she'd put her trust in him when the Chitauri invaded and she had mourned for him an year or so ago. Besides, Clint was here too, laying in a bed somewhere around. And if he had decided to give Coulson a chance... maybe she should try too. Because no matter what she said, if there was a person in the while wide world who she trusted as best as she could, it was Clint Barton.

Natasha took the director's hand.

"I'm glad we'll be working together again." - Coulson nodded and continued before Natasha could contradict him. "May is going to show you your room and in the morning you can meet the whole crew. I'm sure you're going to find some very interesting people among them."

Somehow, seeing his smile, Natasha doubted that were going to be pleasant meetings.


	7. Damage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This part of the story is focused on the relationship between Melinda and Natasha. 
> 
> It contains a little background and some headcannons about their friendship I have. But be warned, this is a painful chapter.

Natasha and May walked down the stairs and corridors of the base in a heavy silence until May spoke up:

"I'm sure you have some questions you'd like answered. Want to have a cup of tea before sleep?"

Sleep? Natasha didn't bother telling her she couldn't sleep for some time now. Which meant she won't be sleeping here for sure.

"Yeah, sure" - she answered. Whatever was going on, Melinda wasn't responsible for it. No need for being rude. Especially if she was going to be staying for a while. 

She sat by the kitchen table as May poked around cabinets in search for cups and teabags.

Both of them took their time with them when the water boiled. At last, when there wasn't anything left to postpone the inevitable talk, Natasha was the one who spoke up first.

"So. Why am I here?"

May looked at her over her steaming cup. By the smell of it, Melinda was having her favorite wild berry kind of hug in a cup. That's what Clint had called it once, wasn't it.

"Barton wanted to take you in. He'd just returned from a mission abroad when he was compromised. Stark barely got him out before HYDRA attempted a third try on his life that was probably going to be fatal."

Natasha did everything she could not to shiver but a chill went through her body. Needless to say, it had nothing to do with the cold and a lot to do with a whole lot of guilt. She almost asked May if she was responsible. Almost. 

"We took him over from Stark Tower, patched him up, introduced him to the cause. First thing he asked was where were you and what did you think about it. Looked really surprised when we told him you disappeared without a trace after that statement."

Natasha almost didn't wait for her to finish:

"Yeah. I needed some time to think some stuff over."

"A month? - May's thin brows showed Natasha exactly how much she believed her. Even so, her tone was not accusing but soft and carrying. 

"What did you mean by your cause? What are you fighting for? - Natasha avoided the question trying out her tea. 

Melinda let it go with a sigh.

"Fighting HYDRA, saving the world, pretty much the usual. But it hasn't been easy, we have encountered some... complications.

Now that made Natasha's interest spark. Her hands gripped at the hot cup tighter, her heart beating a little faster, a small amount of adrenaline pumping through her veins.

"What kinds of complications?"

May shook her head, drinking her tea down.

"Even you wouldn't believe me if I told you." - she smirked as she stood up and put her teacup in the old sink without making a sound. Which was kind of admirable since the sink was metal and the cup - porcelain. - "You'll find out yourself if you stay just long enough anyway. Your room is at the end of the corridor, there are clean sheets and cosmetics waiting for you. And if you need anything else, I'm just a room away."

Natasha nodded, her eyes fixed on her cup as she uselessly stirred its contains. For a second May looked at her, as if she wanted to say something, but was debating internally if she should. Deciding she probably shouldn't, Melinda walked towards the door. Just as she was about to leave, Natasha called her name. The red haired woman's heart was beating even faster now. Turning in her chair so she can see May's expression, she asked a question she feared the answer to.

"May" - Natasha took a breath in. Did she really want to know? Maybe it was only going to add up to her nightmares but she wasn't the one to run from the truth. She'd been running from it for a month. It was time to get it over with. - "How many?"

Understanding flashed in Melinda's eyes and Natasha saw a flicker of pity in them. It felt like deja vu, only last time it was summer. It was hot. And it was a hostage situation, which, in comparison to this, seemed a lot better. Their eyes crossed and both women knew they were thinking about the same thing - the day that forged their aquaintanceship into a friendship. That's exactly why Natasha trusted her with this.

"Nat," - the asisan started, her voice soft. By the tilt of her head Natasha already knew what her friend was about to say. So she cut her off, bracing herself for the ugly truth.

"How many, May?" - Natasha pushed with a stern voice. She could hear an edge of desperation and maybe a little madness herself. Maybe asking this was just that - madness, which was only going to give her a new prospect of all the red on her ledger. Either way, the spy, the human, the avenger in her had to know.

May's face hardened. She went into agent mode and Natasha knew she was getting what she asked for now. No holding back, no mercy.

"More than 1500 agents in the world were HYDRA. They were everywhere, on every possible level. Even in the Academies. Recruiting young students to be easily shaped in their hands for their purposes."

"I wasn't..." 

"Yes, I know what you were asking, Nat. Let me finish, because I want you to get the full picture. I'm not going to sugarcoat anything for you, because I know you wouldn't want that.

Natasha nodded as she waited for May to continue. During the tirade, her voice hadn't raised one bit.

"As I said, more than 1500 agents in S.H.I.E.L.D were HYDRA. They had another over 1500 men supporting them from the underworld who you exposed. A little over 200 loyal to S.H.I.E.L.D agents died in different circumstances after the information dump. Killed in action, during extraction or later in holding. There were some that went MIA, but were later found dead. Some are still unaccounted for."

Natasha's breath caught in her lungs as she tried to deal with the concept of so much death. The woman didn't know what she was expecting, but it was not that. More than 200.

"How many exactly?" - she whispered, clutching the cup in her hands so hard her knuckles turned white. Melinda closed her eyes, her lips pressing into a thin line. Natasha could see she didn't want to tell her.

"236. But keep in mind there are still a lot of people we presume dead or are in hiding so we can't do a proper assessment."

Natasha nodded, letting her hair fall in front of her face.

"Thank you" - as her lips spoke the words she felt some of the tension in her disappear. Knowing was just better than being in the dark. No matter that the light of this particular knowledge turned out darker than most of the dark in existence. 

Melinda simply nodded. With a final look at her friend, she disappearing in the labyrinth of corridors, leaving Natasha all alone with her thoughts.


	8. And so we meet again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha gets to meet Jemma Simmons and to speak with Clint - all in one chapter. Some feels. Some jokes. You can't say I'm not generous, can you? You will hate me when you see where this one ends.

There were no clocks around but the russian guessed it was somewhere around 1 a.m.

The tea had turned tasteless so Natasha just cleaned up after May and herself. The water ran down her pale slim fingers. It was rather cold than hot and she suspected it had something to do with the old piping system in the building . 

When she was done, she didn't even thing about going to the room they'd assigned her - she knew she wouldn't sleep anyway. She lingered in the kitchen for a minute, looking around more out of habit than anything else. It was nice. Not cozy. Not welcoming. But it was clean and designed with all the essentials for a special operations base. She noted the modern devices and little conveniences as a coffee machine and a microwave stove. After that, Natasha headed straight for the infirmary as quietly as possible. The sound of her boots on the floor sounded and felt familiar. The ex assassin allowed herself to embrace and feel the solitude of the night before entering the hospital wing of the place.

A nice looking girl was the only person awake in the room. She had brown wavy hair and an honest oval face. Dressed in a dark floral elegant blouse and black trousers, she was the image of elegance. Natasha wondered what she was doing here when she seemed like a person who would be feeling better in a university or some serious research facility with top secret location. Then again, before long, S.H.I.E.L.D. had some of those too. Judging from the even blinking of her eyes, Natasha would guess she was very tired. Assessing from the air she had around her, she was determined not to get rest until she was done with whatever she had her hands full with. And speaking of them, they seemed delicate as she worked a vile with a blue liquid. So... she was smart and was clearly not a field agent. The latter was obvious since she didn't hear Natasha come in through the door. That's why she practically jumped when she finally registered Natasha with her peripheral vision.

"Oh my God. You startled me!" - the girl - young woman, as it seemed from up close, smiled nervously, touching her neck with her long slim fingers as if to calm herself down. Her accent indicated she wasn't an American, probably English, not Scottish.

"Sorry, didn't mean to." - Natasha mumbled shifting her weight from one leg to the other.

"Oh it's okay, don't worry." - her new acquaintance waved it off with a broad smile. - "I'm Jemma, Jemma Simmons." - she extended her arm in greeting. - "And you're the famous Natasha Romanova. I've read all about you! And it's not like I haven't seen you before. You once came to give a speech at the Academy. Talked about Russia's advances during the Cold War."

Jemma said this all in one breath and with an even bigger smile than at first. Natasha actually remembered that lecture. It was one of the few she had actually enjoyed giving. For a difference, it was focused on technology, progress and knowledge rather than combat training. Also, it was nice to hear somebody still thought good of her. Natasha watched as realisation flashed in the girl's eyes.

"Sorry, I tend to babble when I'm excited." - Jemma's face flushed with embarrassment. It was kind of sweet and innocent, Natasha decided as she let a small smile on her lips. "You're probably here to see agent Barton?"

She wasn't wrong so Natasha simply nodded. Watching this girl filled with energy made her feel even more tired than she already did. 

"Right. Of course. This way." Jemma lead the way towards the far end of the room. Two of the ten beds in the room were hidden from sight with hospital curtains there. Natasha flinched as she saw them while they were getting near. She couldn't help herself - she really, really disliked hospitals for a person who happened to visit them quite frequently. Maybe that was a pretty big part of the reason. 

"You get to wake him up to check on him. Or you can wait for me to do it?" Natasha realised Jemma had been talking to her just in time for her mind to catch with the conversation.

"I will do it, thank you." they stopped right beside the bed closer to the curtain. Natasha strongly suspected Clint had probably woken up while he was transported and had asked for this particular spot. He hated not having a view of the outside in sight. A true hawk. "How has he been doing?"

"He's alright." Jemma assured her. "We infused him blood just in case and he had a minor concussion. He just needs some rest. I read his file, he's had a lot worse."

Don't I know it - Natasha though with the smallest smirk. Jemma had no idea how much was left out of that records.

Jemma stood there for a few awkward seconds.

"Right. Well, I'll leave you to it. You have to ask the basic questions in the questionnaire and check his answers but nothing else. He really needs resting. If you need anything, I'll be around." Jemma stated in a serious voice.

Natasha nodded just as serious, so Jemma left her alone with one final look.

Here, under the hospital lights, Clint looked even worse than in that building. Natasha's sharp eyes registered some cuts and bruises she hadn't before right away and for a second she hesitated on waking him up. The circles under his eyes told her a lot about his sleeping habits in the past week or so too though she couldn't be sure if they were that recent or if he just had missed a few nights of sleep. He always lacked sleep no matter what they did.

Although, thinking about it, she probably didn't look a lot better either.

As if sensing someone close, Clint shifted in his bed.

Natasha stood still while he blinked in the dim light and grunted low - probably not very happy about putting pressure on wherever part of his body pained him. As far as she knew the better question would be what didn't hurt but she wasn't falling for that Indiana Jones trick. Again.

"Oh. Hi." he tried to hide his surprise with a grin although he knew she'd see right trough it. Natasha allowed the smallest genuine smirk to creep on her lips.

"I thought we agreed you won't do anything stupid." if anyone would hear her they probably wouldn't catch the slightest mildness in her stern voice. He did. And it made him feel relieved.

As he laid on the rather uncomfortable bed, Clint wanted to look at her better just to be sure she was okay. Because partners do that for each other, right? Unfortunately he had no way of doing it without irritating the hell out of her. 

"Stupid?" - he looked almost offended before shifting his eyes to look at the sealing. White. Hospitably. Of course. Then his eyes got back to her. He frowned. - "I don't recall doing anything stupid lately."

Natasha rolled her eyes. Of course he was going to emphasize on her part in this mess.

"The stunt you pulled was stupid on the verge of insane. If it hadn't been for May you'd probably be dead now."

Clint shrugged. 

"Well I'm not, am I. And as usual I have you to thank for that."

Natasha shook her head with exasperation. 

"You could have at least taken some back up with you. Or tried arranging for an extraction in case everything went south. Just as it did, by the way."

"Well, we never have an extraction plan, so I figured I didn't need one." he pointed out.

"How could you do something that stupid, Barton? You couldn't have known I'd be there." - she usually wasn't this persistent. Or this pissed off but to hell with that. To hell with all their fears, always unspoken emotions and doubts. She was too tired for that and he really had been reckless.

Clint's eyes became wary at the sound of her voice. He fell silent for a good half minute before he gave her the safest answer he could. His voice was soft:

"We agreed nobody was going to find about our safe house if we could avoid it. So I figured you'd be there. And I'd already checked the loft in Budapest and the cabin in the Rocky Mountains. There wasn't any other place you could be."

"I could've fled to Russia." - she pointed out passionately.

"No. You wouldn't. Not after you told the whole world your secrets." Clint's voice was harsh, but somehow sympathetic at the same time.

Natasha opened her mouth but let it close again because he was right and her compromised emotions and mental state weren't supposed to mess up her judgment. Of course she wouldn't go back to Russia. She was the one who fell silent now. He didn't seem to mind. On the contrary, he took the time she was speechless and lost in her thoughts to take a look at her - really look at her and take in not only her mask but to see through the cracks in the facade nobody else could see but him. What he saw made his heart ache.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's an ungodly late hour so I'm sorry for every and any mistake you might have found in this chapter. Let me know what you think.


	9. Talk that talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know you hate me but I hadn't had time to write. This is unedited too. It contains a talk, some speculations I have about the story. Enjoy!

It had been months from their last meeting and since then so much had changed. He had becоme confident in his own abilities again and sure he wasn't Loki's puppet anymore. And he had done it alone even though she had pulled him initially up and helped him put the foundations of his life again. Because she of all people hadn't pitied him and acted strange around him. For the kid that grew around people who did exactly that his whole life... that meant a lot.

Since then he had been abroad and on linked missions that hadn't given him the chance to check on her even after the winter soldier fiasco. The news caught up with him while he was working his way undercover into one of the biggest mob families in Russia that was threatening to overthrow the government which was pretty ironic since usually Natasha was the one on the russian jobs because of obvious reasons. The only problem was the Ivanovich family knew her already pretty personally and there was no way she could do the job. At least not without getting compromised and probably getting killed in the process. Before giving him the go, Fury had specifically ordered him not to keep her in the loop about this one. Which, for the record, he strongly protested about.

She looked tired. She rarely wore make up and now wasn't an exception. He could see the dark shades under her eyes clearly. He was quite familiar with them himself since he'd worn them for a long time after Loki's mind control. Her lips showed signs of biting and her uncharacteristically limp hair gave up how stressed she'd been lately. In addition her clothes seemed to be hanging a little too loosely on her slim frame. Her face didn't give away anything she might be feeling though. 

He'd never seen her like this if he had to be honest with himself. Еven after the toughest jobs, she'd stood up, managed to make a sarcastic comment at a joke he'd make and go on. Even after New York when all of them were beaten and bruised, bloody and with guilty consciouness because of all the deaths they couldn't prevent that day. He still remembered how she yelled at Stieve when the tireness took his toll on him. They weren't soldiers. They did everything they could and still things fucked up because noone was prepared to fight with freakin' aliens. Still, against all odds they had and they had won and yes he had deamons to fight and broken bridges to rebuild but she was there ready to be his solid ground in the process. He was kind of familiar with what had happened but didn't know all the details. Seeing het like this, though, what she had become in just two short months, sent chills through him that had nothing to do with the room temperature. 

She seemed broken. Hurt beyond repair. And the last thing he wanted was to scatter the pieces even more even though he knew he was way off the definition of a knight in shiny armor. She'd never let him be one anyway. 

When he finally spoke up, Clint couldn't hide the concern in his voice.

"Tasha" he spoke softly, using the russian nickname he'd given her a long time ago that only he was allowed to use by an unwritten and unspoken Natasha rule - "Are you alright?" 

It was a dumb question. He knew it just as he was already aware of just how much not okay she was. Not that she was going to give him credit for that either. After all the archer knew he'd been gone for long and with their luck it was just at the time she needed him most.

Shooting a look his way again, she countered the question with her own.

"Yep. Peachy. Speaking of, are you alright? You're the one with a concussion in the room."

Clint suppressed the urge to roll his eyes just because he had been in this situation before and knew perfectly well it wasn't going to be a very pleasant experience. Avoiding the uncomfortable questions was so typical Natasha he shouldn't have even been surprised.

"Minor concussion, minor" - he sighted. If she didn't want to talk about it he wasn't going to push her. At least not right now.

"Whatever" Natasha shrugged "You should be resting and I should be asking you the basic questions I have to or Simmons is going to throw me out of here. What's your full name?"

"Oh come on, I would probably be in my own bed right now if Simmons had agreed to let me go and not torture me with this uncomfortable mattress" he complained in a casual voice. 

Natasha didn't seem impressed at all and just pushed her eyebrows up expecting an answer to the question.

Clint pursed his lips for a second before giving up. This was a safe topic but he needed to talk to her. Her words, her actions, it was like their first years of partnership all over again. God was his witnes that it was a torture.

"Fine. Let's get this over with. Clinton Francis Barton."

"Where were you born?" she asked next, hiding the faint smile that appeared on her lips every time his middle name came up in a conversation. Hеr saw it though. So mаybe he wasn't in that much of trouble.

"Waverly. Iowa. Aren't visitors supposed to be nice to patients? You aren't being very nice." he tried pointing out, his goal being to distract her from the questions and maybe turn the conversation towards her although he knew he won't have luck on the matter.

"I'm not here to play nice." - she pointed out on her turn with a tilt of the head and fingers that tapped the pen on the hospital S.H.I.E.L.D list sitting on her lap. "Next. Where did we meet?"

"I'm pretty sure that's not on the list." he grinned, putting all the hidden meanings in the world in the name of the city and wrapping them up with a bow with a slight uplift of his eyebrows. 

"Sofia."

She barely nodded, her lips twitching but ultimately staying in a neutral position. 

"Where have you been for the last few months?"

"Pretty sure that's not on the list too. And come on. Just a little smirk for Sofia? And you know it's a trick question and I can't tell you. It's classified.

"It's not like there's S.H.I.E.L.D. anymore." she mumbled as she shrugged and continued. "What's your dog's name?"

"Lucky." - he lost the smile and attiitude here. He really missed his four-legged friend but there was nothing he could do to convince Coulson to bring the pet here. This was the second living being he asked about after they barely got him out of Hydra's hands with his arrival back in the States. The archer continued with some bitterness in his voice. "And you have a cat named Liho. They are both currently staying at a shelter. Satisfied yet?"

Natasha gave him a long look that probably would have scared him if he didn't know her so well. He almost asked the obvious. How did they get here. How did they get in this mess that was way over their heds, and, in addition, didn't even pay well. Turned out saving the world wasn't good for you financially. Unless you're Tony Stark. Then it pays hella well.

"Okay, both your short and long term memory seem to be okay." Natasha cut off his thoughts and started to get up from the chair.

The archer rolled his eyes out of habbit. Turned out he was right earlier it really wasn't the best of ideas.

"Jeez, couldn't I have told you that without the interrogation." - he grunted, trying to find a comfortable sitting position. Unsuccesfully. "Now that we've cleared that you can ask the questions that you really want to."

Natasha barely contained her annoyance with his behavior but he was giving her the Look - a face he put on when he wanted to indicate he knew what was bothering her and he would not back down. And as much as she didn't like to agree, most of the times he was right.

"You're a big baby sometimes you know?" - she sighted, dropping back down in the chair with a swift elegant motion.

"Yeah, men are babies, I known." he shot back with a smirk, quoting a movie he knew she loved.

Natasha turned around to check on Simmons. The scientist seemed enchanted by a probe she was testing and wasn't looking at them at all and they were far enough from her to exclude eavesdropping as an option. 

The red haired woman put the hospital list in its place on the board and next to the bed before resting her hands in a seemingly relaxed position on the chair's arms. Of course he knew what was on her mind.

"Why are we here?"

"Why do you think." he shrugged. It was a rethoric question before he continued. "Because everything went to hell and it has to be built again."

Natasha raised her eyebrows at him but he shrugged. 

"And Coulson?" the woman's voice went even quieter. 

Clint shot a look at Simmons which was enough to tell her he didn't trust the people he didn't know from before in the facility either. Finally he sighted quietly. 

"I don't know, Nat, honestly. I probably know as much as you do. And I didn't even see him die so I don't even know if he was really dead in the first place."

"I know he was." her voice was dangerously low. He didn't need to ask her how she knew. She'd brought death and watched the invisible reaper take his victims enough times to know when a person is really gone.

"Come on, Tasha, it was chaos on the hellicarrier, all of us were high on adrenaline and some other alien stuff in my case."

Natasha shook her head. 

"He was dead, Clint. Fury..." she stopped herself and pursed her lips shut. She was going to say Fury wouldn't lie to them about it but she would be lieing to both herself and her partner. The director had shown her on multiple ocasions lately just how capable of deception he was when necessary. 

"Yeah, I heard about what he did." she heard his soft voice.

Her head shot up.

"Who told you?"

"Coulson. Apparently Fury left him in charge after pulling whatever stunt he pulled with you." he raised his hands as he saw her eyes spark dangerously and whatever color she had left draining from her face. "I don't know any specifics. Just the basics."

"Which are what, exactly?"

Clint took a breath in and slowly exhaled. She seemed so wired up he wasn't sure how she would react if to spoke with her about it. Nevertheless they've come to this point and there was no turning back. Simmons was leaving the room. He let out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding.

"I know about the Winter Soldier and how Fury didn't trust you. I know you and Stieve were left all alone. I know it was Bucky and I know you did the right thing to save the world." he saw her shiver as his voice became even more gentle. "I know that if it wasn't for you, a lot more people would be dead."

"No. It wasn't like that. I never intended to be the hero." she shook her head seeking his eyes with such desperation hidden under the cracking tought surface his heart hurt.

"Hey," he spoke softly, reaching slowly for her shoulder. She trembled involuntarily under his touch, but didn't pull away.

"I'm sorry, Tasha," Clint finally spoke up when he was sure she was listening again. His voice was cautious and careful. She hated it. She needed it. "Believe me, if I could, I would have been here as soon as possible."

"Yeah, whatever," she shrugged but they both knew how much it cost her to do it. And he didn't believe it for a second. Especially when she leaned the slightest way to his touch.

Clint sighted and fell silent giving Natasha thе seconds she needed to compose herself back before he made the suggestion for whan they both needed.

"You should catch on some sleep. I'm not going anywhere and neither is anything else."

Natasha suppressed a smirk and just nodded. It probably wasn't going to do her any good but she wasn't going to tell him about her having trouble sleeping just yet. Not until she knew he was going to handle it. That they were both going to handle it.

"Yeah, I guess we're both staying here for a while." she got up, while taping his hand lightly - a gesture partly out of habit, partly because it was a sign they used to have for 'It's okay."

"I don't think anyone is keeping us here but they need our help, Nat." - he spoke softly. She pulled her hand away and shook her head before she could think about it twice. She pursed her lips and looked him in the eyes. They were clear and earnest and he didn't try to hide anything - if she wanted, she could look straight into his soul. She didn't.

"I'll think about it." she finally promised after a couple of seconds. Then, she averted her gaze and went for the door.

Clint didn't stop her.


End file.
